The Red Hand
by Topaz88
Summary: Stanford has "survived" his first week of Backupsmore University with the help of a friend. He'll need him to survive more than that... Meanwhile, Stanley tries to find his brother & apologize. Gravity Falls AU set soon after Stan is kicked out of the house and Stanford goes to Backupsmore University. Also, my version of kind of the "birth" of the "fancannon" the Mystery Trio.
1. Chapter 1

Stanford opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. It hadn't been so bad—that first week at Backupsmore College. It wasn't his dream school, but—it was school—and he lived to learn.

Rolling over, he looked at the bed across the room. His roommate, Fiddleford McGucket, was still asleep. In that first week they had become fast friends—and Stanford was glad for that—as there was a hole in his heart.

He got out of bed and went over to the window. Outside were the crowded streets of New Jersey.

"Stanley, where are you? "Stanford mumbled aloud.

A couple of weeks before, Stanford had had the chance to get into a prestigious college across the country. When the recruiters came, however, his perpetual motion machine, which the recruiters were there to see, did not work. Stanford had found evidence that his twin brother Stanley had been there, and automatically assumed that he had sabotaged the machine on purpose…

A tear came to Stanford's eye.

"Stanley, how could I have done that to you? How could I have assumed you did that on purpose? "

Behind him there was a yawn, then a voice with a thick southern accent said _, "_ Hey there, Stanford, ready to start a new day—are you okay? "

Stanford wiped a tear away and turned to his roommate. "Yes, Fiddleford. Did you sleep well? "

He wiped away another tear, and his roommate frowned, getting out of bed. He pushed his thick hair out of his eyes and stood, his pajamas looking decidedly too big for his slight frame. He walked over to the young man by the window. "Stanford, what's wrong? "

The young man sighed. "I'm—I was just—missing my brother is all. "

Fiddleford looked distressed. "Aw, I'm sorry. I was an only child, myself. Older or younger?"

"What? "

"Your brother. "

"Oh—"

Stanford cast another glance out the window. "We're—we're identical twins, actually. "

"Wow."

Fiddleford looked at the floor a moment, then up at Stanford and smiled. When they first met, Ford couldn't help but notice that the blue of his roommate's eyes reminded him of the shallow part of the ocean where he and Stanley used to run on the beach.

"I know I'm not much," Fiddleford said, "-but I'll do my best to fill the brotherly role if you want. "

Stanford grinned down at his roommate and let the tears fall. One of the worst things about Backupsmore was that he hadn't made many friends. He had to say that aside from his brother, Fiddleford McGucket was the best friend he'd ever had.

"Thank you, Fiddleford." He said. "I really appreciate that. "


	2. Chapter 2

About a hundred miles away, a young man who looked very much like Stanford leaned dejectedly against the trunk of a nineteen-sixty-seven Ford Thunderbird.

"I can't believe it." Stan said to himself, looking at the sky. "I didn't mean to break Stanford's machine—I didn't!" he shouted. "Now Dad's kicked me out of the house and I've lost my best friend!"

Stan looked at the ground. What was he supposed to do now? His brother had seemed angry at him, too, but—

 _Maybe Dad won't forgive you, but what about Stanford? Like you said, he's your best friend! He must know you wouldn't do this on purpose! Go apologize!_

"But—I don't know where he is." Stan said aloud to the voice in his head.

 _Check the colleges. You know Stanford had a thirst for learning, and even if he didn't get the scholarship to West Coast Tech, he had to go to college somewhere._

"You're right. I've got to go back and apologize. "

Just then a car pulled up beside him. The window rolled down and the driver asked, "Son, do you need some help? "

"Uh—no—"Stanley said, hoping the man hadn't heard him talking out loud. "I—was just—trying to figure out which direction to head next, but I did. Thanks! "

Hurriedly Stanley got back in the car and started the engine.

Fiddleford and Stanford got ready for class. Stanford was really glad that they had their first class together.

On their way down a hall, Ford noticed a group of young men in red jackets huddled by the wall.

"Who are they?" he whispered to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford took Stanford by the arm and led him to the other side of the hall. "They call themselves El Mano Rojo." He said, though sounding very non-Spanish through his southern twang. Nobody's really sure what they are—a gang or what—but—"

He bit his lower lip.

Stanford looked down at his friend. "But, _what_? "

Fiddleford looked up at him. "Well, it's just that some of the disabled students've disappeared. "he said. "Th' Dean said that they were transferred to a school that was 'better for 'em', but personally I think that's hogwash—pardon my language. "

Ford would have chuckled at his friend's over-politeness, had it not been for the worried look in his eye.

He looked back over his shoulder at the group again. He saw a couple of the young men in the group looking in his and Fiddleford's direction, and for some reason and he wondered about it—and who these guys really were. Then, realizing he was almost late, turned his head back and hurried to class.


	3. Chapter 3

A few hours later, Stanford was heading back to his dorm room to put some books away. Suddenly, he was stopped in his tracks by one of the young men he and Fiddleford had seen earlier standing in front of him.

"Hey, you're new here, aren't you? "the young man asked.

Stanford instinctively tried to hide his hands, but it was difficult when he was carrying so many books. "This is my first semester here, yes. "

"My name's Todd." The young man said, holding out a hand.

"Um…" Ford hesitated, looking down at the books he was carrying.

Todd looked Ford in the eye, then down at his fingers that were clasped around the books. "You—you have six fingers?"

Ford could feel himself getting hot. He wished desperately that he could hide his hands. Looking at the floor, he waited for the familiar "Weirdo" or "Freak" comments.

"Whoa, that's cool." Todd said. "Hey, I heard that you were a real science whiz."

"Uh—"Ford was flustered, first that he hadn't been called a freak, and second that this boy knew anything about him. "Well, I dabble in science a bit. "

"I belong to a club that likes to discuss scientific theories. You should join us some time. "

Ford relaxed just a little. Todd seemed nice enough. He thought about what Fiddleford had said earlier, but his friend did have a bit of a worrying streak—with a dash of conspiracy theory.

"Uh—I'll think about it." He finally managed to get out. "I—have to go. "

"Sure." Todd said with a smile. "See you around. "

Ford headed down the hall, not looking back. Todd watched him go.

One of the other young men Ford and Fiddleford had seen earlier came around the corner. "Well, Todd?"

"I think he'll do, Pete. I think he'll do. "

* * *

Stan left the office of the third college he'd tried that day.

 _Aw, man—what if this doesn't work?_

Three colleges had been three dead ends. How many were there in New Jersey? Had Stanford even _stayed_ in New Jersey?

 _Of course he stayed in New Jersey. Ma and Pa couldn't have afforded to send Stanford out of state without that grant…_

Stan shook his head to clear it so that the feelings of guilt wouldn't wash over him again. He climbed back into the car and got out his map. Upon opening it, he grabbed a loose paper on which he had been marking off colleges he's been to.

"Lessee—Monmouth, Georgian Court, Drew. Next on the list is—New Jersey Institute of Technology? Well, that sounds like Stanford, but it probably costs the bucks to go there."

He sighed. But how could he skip any? He had to find Stanford—he just had to. He started the car.

"Okay, NJIT, here I come."


	4. Chapter 4

Ford shut the door to the dorm room and exhaled. "Phew!"

"Hard day?"

Ford looked up to see Fiddleford at the kitchenette table. Pieces of metal and wire were strewn almost all the way across it.

"Seems like I was running back and forth to the library during or after every class. " Stanford said, and then sniffed the air. "Mmm. What's that? "

Without looking up from his work Stanford's roommate answered, "I made some of my mama's rabbit stew—'course, I couldn't find any rabbit, so I had t' use chicken instead. I had some already, th' rest is yours. "

Ford went and got a bowl off of the counter, found a spoon in the sink and helped himself. After yawning again, he came over to the table. "Fids, that's the fourth time you've made dinner this week."

His roommate was looking through a jeweler's loupe at what appeared to be a tiny piece of black plastic with thread-thin gold lines on it. "Well, your classes run later'n mine. It's th' least I can do. "he said, still without looking up.

Ford just smiled and shook his head. "Eh—Fids, what are you working on? "

"One second." Fiddleford said as he moved a small soldering iron down one of the thin gold lines. After a moment he sat up and exhaled. "There!"

"So-o-o—what _is_ that, exactly? "

"It's a computer chip!" Fiddleford said proudly, though it still didn't give Stanford a clue as to what the item was. "Well, a model of one, anyways. I'm explainin' my idea for personal computers to my Technology class tomorrow, and this here's one of the things it'd be powered by. "

Ford was still clueless. "Uh…I'll take your word for it, Fiddleford." He said. "You and I are going to be in some different fields. "

Fiddleford just grinned and removed the jeweler's loupe from his spectacles. "Well, we're all here for somethin', I guess. "

Ford grinned back. After a moment of watching Fiddleford clean the wires and other bits off of the table, he said, "I met one of those guys we saw in the hall this morning. "

Fiddleford stopped in the middle of sweeping some of the bits toward himself with his hand, then looked over his spectacles at Ford. "Y'mean—one of those guys in th' red jackets?"

Ford nodded and swallowed the bite of stew he had in his mouth. "I ran into him in the hall. He seemed nice enough. Thought it was kind of odd, though—I don't recall ever meeting him, and yet he knew I was into science—eh, then again, maybe he knows a classmate of mine. "

Stanford's roommate shook his head. "I really would stay away from them, if I were you. "

"I'll be careful, Fids. I promise. "

Even after Ford's assurance, Fiddleford looked anxious. "Please do."

Stan yawned and leaned his head on the steering wheel.

"Maybe this is hopeless. " He said aloud.

Ah, he couldn't start thinking like that. He had to apologize to Stanford. He just _had_ to—even if he didn't accept the apology.

Stan parked the car in an empty field and looked at his list of colleges. There was one more on the list—the rest had since been marked off.

"Backupsmore, eh?" he said, getting out of the car and stretching. "Well, that doesn't sound all prestigious-y like the others—maybe it's what ma and pa could afford. "

He got back in the car, locked the driver's and passenger's side seats, and then climbed into the back, locking the doors back there, too. After he'd done that, he lay down and stretched out on the back seat.

"Please be at this last place, Stanford." He mumbled, closing his eyes. "I have to apologize to your face for breaking your machine. I just _gotta._ "


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, in between classes, Stanford met Todd again in the hall.

"Oh, hello," Todd said. "How's your day going? "

"Not too bad." Stanford said, feeling himself tense up for a moment. He told himself: _Calm down, Stanford. Fids just had a theory, that's all._

"Hey, that club I was telling you about is meeting tonight. A couple of guys and I are riding to where we meet together—would you like to come? "

Stanford paused.

"You don't have to join or anything, just kind of observe and see what we're about. "

It sounded innocent enough. Maybe Fiddleford _was_ just over reacting about a theory—besides; Stanford could always use another friend… "Uh—okay, sure." Stanford answered. "Where do you want to meet up?"

"How about we meet tonight in the front parking lot? That's where my friend parks his car—say, around seven? "

"Mmm—my last class gets off at six thirty tonight. I won't have time to put my books away. "

"Ah, bring them with you. Like I said, we discuss scientific theories and stuff. Maybe something in them will make a good topic. "

"Okay, see you then. " Stanford said, and headed to class. In the back of his mind he thought, "I'll have to let Fiddleford know I'm going…"

Stanley pulled over to the side of the road to look at his map. He hadn't been able to find Backupsmore anywhere.

"Where the heck is this place?" he grumbled, unfolding the map again. "Lessee, I went down Shore Road and I should be—"

Stanley noted the line on the map that ran very close to Shore Road.

"Aw, dang it, I should have been on the Garden State Parkway to get to Stone Harbor Boulevard! Stanley, learn how to read a map!"

He started up the car again and turned around to find a way to get on the Parkway.

That evening, Stanford was late to meet Todd in the parking lot. He wrote a note to Fiddleford about where he was going and slipped it under their dorm door, and then ran outside.

Todd and another young man in a red jacket were waiting for him out in the parking lot.

"Hey, there—glad you could make it!" Todd said, coming forward and placing an arm around Stanford's shoulders. "This is my friend, Pete. He's a part of our club. "

The second young man in the red jacket nodded to Stanford, and then looked at Pete. "Did you tell him the rule? "

"Oh, no—sorry."

Stanford looked at Todd. "Rule?"

Todd pulled a bandanna out of his jacket pocket. "See, you're not a member, yet—and, where our club meets is kind of a secret. Anyone who visits gets blindfolded first so they don't see the location of where we meet. "

"Uh—okay."

Stanford's heart skipped a beat, but he took his glasses off and allowed Todd to blindfold him. In the back of his mind he replayed his conversation with Fiddleford:

"I'll be careful, Fids. I promise. "

"Please do."


	6. Chapter 6

Fiddleford looked up from his seat at the table at the clock on the wall. It was after seven.

"Oh, no—Stanford's never this late."

He got up and turned the oven off so his casserole wouldn't burn.

As he went back to the table, he noticed a paper on the floor by the door.

"What the—"

The young man went over and picked it up. It was a note from Stanford.

"'Fids, meeting with Todd—the guy I told you I met in the hall-and his friends tonight-will call when I can'. Oh, no! "

Fiddleford's stomach felt as if were tying itself in knots. _There's somethin' really wrong about those guys, I just know it!_

He went back to the oven to make "double sure" it was off, then ran out the door and shut it behind him. After a second he opened it again, locked it from the inside, closed the door and ran full tilt down the hall toward the dean's office.

Stanley turned the car into Backupsmore's front parking lot.

"Finally!" he said as he parked and shut the car off. "Please be here, Stanford."

As he got out of the car he noticed two glass doors at the front. "Welp. Here goes nothin'. "

The ride was quiet, which made Stanford feel uncomfortable.

"Um—so, what have you all been discussing in your meetings, lately? " he asked, if only to break the silence.

Todd's voice came from his left. "Ah—I wasn't there at the last meeting. Do you remember what the topic was, Pete? "

"Ah…not really. Somebody'll remind us when we get there. "

Stanford stiffened. If these guys were so into "discussing scientific theories" they sure didn't seem that interested. If it had been _him_ , he would have taken notes at the meeting and studied them through the week so that he would be able to discuss further when they met again.

He held his stomach. "Uh—guys—I think we'd better go back. I'm—starting to feel sick. "

"Ah, you'll be fine. It's just the bumpy road. "Todd said.

"No, I—" Stanford put his hand over his mouth and hoped that the other two young men would think he was going to throw up.

"Too late to turn back now, we're here. "Todd said as the car stopped. Stanford heard the door on Todd's side open. Then, the driver's side door opened.

Stanford yanked the blindfold off and opened the door on his side, jumping out. Looking ahead of him, he saw what appeared to be an abandoned farmhouse at the top of a slight incline.

He turned to run, but Todd stood in his way.

"Where y' goin?"

Stanford turned the other direction, but Pete was there. "He's not going anywhere. Grab him. "

Stanford tried to flee, but Todd caught hold of his arms, twisting them behind his back. Taking off his belt, he bound the young man's wrists.

"Help!"

Pete picked up the bandana Stanford had thrown on the ground and stuffed it in Stanford's mouth. "Ah-ah. None of that. "

He jerked his head at Todd, who wrapped his arms around Stanford's chest. Pete picked up their captive's ankles, and the two of them started to carry Stanford toward the house.

When he finally got to the Dean's office, Fiddleford bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

The secretary looked up. Upon seeing the all-too-familiar thick head of hair she looked at the ceiling. "What's the problem _now_ , Mister McGucket? "

It took Fiddleford a few more seconds to catch his breath, then he stood up. "Miss—Miss Carrington—I need—to speak to the Dean. "

"Dean Witherspoon is gone for the day Mister McGucket, and even if he were here—"

"Miss Carrington," Fiddleford drew a last deep breath and came closer to the desk. "Please—my roommate is missing. "

The woman raised her eyebrows. "And you know this how—oh, wait, let me guess—it was those boys in the red jackets again, right? "

The young man before her shut his eyes, drew a deep breath and exhaled. Now, it was more because he didn't want to snap at a lady than that he was out of breath, but it was hard when he was so worried about Stanford.

"Miss, my roommate, Stanford Pines, always comes back to our room about the same time, and—"

The secretary interrupted him. "Mister McGucket, your roommate, just like you, is a _young man_. He's probably out doing what eighteen year olds like you do. "

Fiddleford bit his lower lip and opened his eyes. He then said between his teeth, "Miss Carrington, you do _not_ know my roommate. "

He turned and ran out the door, shutting it behind him.

The secretary rolled her eyes and started back to her work. After a couple of seconds the door opened again, and a red-faced Fiddleford snapped,

"—and pardon my tone, but I'll have you know I'm _seventeen_!"

And the door slammed again.

Fiddleford ran down the hall. There was a payphone right outside the dorm doors. He had to call the police.


	7. Chapter 7

Once Todd and Pete carried Stanford to the abandoned house, they went around the side. Pete dropped Stanford's ankles and opened the doors to a storm cellar. Though Stanford tried struggling, Todd half-carried, half-pushed him down the steps.

At the bottom of the steps, they came to a large, almost cavernous room. Some sort of platform with cement "X" was in the center of a circle of candles on stands. The other members of "El Mano Rojo" stood around.

"Grand Master, we've brought you another imperfect specimen to obliterate. " Pete said.

"Mmmmf!"

Stanford's eyes widened. What was all this? And—"imperfect specimen to _obliterate_?! "

Stanley looked at the two glass windowed doors and headed straight for them. _Okay, here goes. Stanford, please be here…._

He grabbed the door handle and opened the door.

Bam!

"Unnph!"

Stanley looked at the floor. A young man who had to be the tiniest college student he'd ever seen was lying on the floor, knocked over after having run into Stanley as he came in.

"Whoa. Sorry, pal-didn't see you. "

Stan reached down, put his hands under the young man's arms and stood him up. He was absolutely nothing to lift for the more muscular of the Pines twins—Stan guessed that the kid must have weighed about ninety pounds.

Noting that the young man's "professor spectacles" had fallen off and were on the floor, Stan reached down and picked them up. "Sorry, you probably need these."

The minute young man took his spectacles back from Stan, who couldn't help but notice that the color of the kid's eyes reminded him of the shallow water at the beach back home.

"Thank you kindly." he said, putting his spectacles back on. "My apologies, I wasn't watching where I was going—"

The kid's mile a minute apology stopped short when he looked up at Stan, and his face went white.

Stan tilted his head. "Uh—kid, are you okay? Did you hit your head when you fell or somethin'?"

"You're—you're Stanford's twin brother, am I correct? "

Now it was Stan's turn to be shocked. "You know Stanford? "

"Yes—Stanford Pines is my roommate. "

Stan balled his fist in triumph. "Yes!"

"But—I'm afraid he's in terrible danger!"

Stan was immediately yanked out of his victory celebration. " _What_?"

"He didn't come back to our dorm room at the time he usually, does, and—"

"Later!" Stan said, picking the young man up and tucking him under his arm. "Explain to me while we go and get the cops!"

With that he pushed his way back out the door.

Stanford dug his heels into the dirt floor, trying to keep Todd and Pete from taking him, as it appeared they were, to the platform with the "X" on it. The whole time he was trying to yell through the gag in his mouth.

Two of the other young men in red jackets came forward, one picking up Stanford by the ankles and the other producing a second bandanna from his pocket and tying it in his mouth so that couldn't push out the one that had already been stuffed in.

 _Who are these guys_? Stanford wondered frantically. _Why are they doing this to me_?

More of the red-jacketed college students came forward and helped the first four in removing the belt from Stanford's wrists, then putting him up on the "X" and binding his wrists and ankles to it with rope. The whole time Stanford was trying to yell and scream through the gag.

"Is the subject ready? "came a voice.

Even though thoroughly frightened, something clicked in Stanford's mind. _I know that voice._


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you think these guys in the red jackets have something to do with my brother disappearin'?" Stanley asked Fiddleford as the car sped down the road.

"Yes," his passenger answered, stiff with fright at the speed Stanley was driving. "—I suspect this "Mano Rojo" gang or whatever they are have something to do with the disappearances of th' disabled kids at Backupsmore—the looks they gave those kids, the things I heard 'em say—strange remarks about how they were 'imperfect beings'—say, c-could you slow down a bit-we won't find your brother if we get pulled over by the police—or, crash into a tree. "

Stanley lifted his foot off the gas a little. "Sorry, just—worried about my brother is all. "

Fiddleford nodded his understanding, drew a deep breath and exhaled. "I've only known your brother a week, and—well, he's been a real good friend to me. I don't want to lose him, either. "

 _Wow-someone who's actually callin' my brother a friend._ Stanley thought, thinking of his and Stanford's nearly friendless childhood. That was why Stan hadn't wanted Stanford to leave for West Coast Tech. Who would he have had then? Who would he have if he and this little guy couldn't find Stanford?

"Hey, I know that car! "

Stanley slammed on the brakes at his passenger's outcry. "What car? "

Fiddleford shook himself from the shock of stopping so fast, and then pointed out the window at a beat-up blue Falcon XK parked by the side of the road. "I'm pretty sure that belongs to one of those Mano Rojo guys. "

Stanley didn't know much Spanish, but he was pretty sure that the southern twang in this kid's voice didn't make the words sound like they should.

Looking up the slight incline the XK was parked at the bottom of, Stan could see an abandoned farmhouse. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an older lady who appeared to be arguing with a police officer on the other side of the road.

"Well, kid," Stan said, moving to get out of the car. "We'd better check this out. "

His passenger bit his lower lip, but got out of the car, too.

Stanford looked up at the man in the red robe and hood that stood over him on the right side of the plaform. The young man's heart was pounding harder than it ever had in his life.

"So, I'm guessing you'd like to know why you're here. "The robed figure asked.

Stanford nodded.

"You see, "the figure continued, "I believe that the human race was meant to be perfect. I have been given a mission to ensure that it is. Sadly, the imperfect continue to be born. Therefore it is my mission to cleanse the earth of them. "

Stanford drew a sharp breath and clenched both of his fists.

"A pity," the robed figure said, placing a hand on the young man's head. "You have such a wonderful mind. Truly a waste, but a mission is a mission. "

He reached into the fold of his robe and pulled out a dagger with a swirl design on the hilt and a crooked five-inch blade.

Stanford let out a muffled cry.


	9. Chapter 9

Above, Stanley made his way around the outside of the house, with Fiddleford on his heels. As they came around the west side of the house, Stanley stopped.

"Wh-what is it? "Fiddleford asked in a whisper.

Stanley turned his head, put a finger to his lips, and pointed ahead of them. Looking around Stanley's bulky frame, Fiddleford could see the open doors of a storm cellar.

As the two came closer, they could hear voices from below.

"Is the subject ready? "

"Yes, Grand Master. "

Stan looked down at Fiddleford, who returned Stan's gaze and gave a firm nod. As quietly as he could, Stan went down the stairs with Fiddleford close behind him.

As they reached the bottom, they could see the red jacketed "Mano Rojo" standing around a weird platform. A figure in a red robe stood over it with a crooked-bladed dagger in his hand. Stan drew a sharp breath when he realized the identity of the figure that lay bound on the platform.

"Stanford!"

The red-jacketed college students all turned. Behind him, Stanley heard Fiddleford swallow hard.

"Well, well." The figure in the red robe said as if amused. "Mister McGucket, it would appear that for once your outrageous suspicions about things were correct. "

The young man behind Stanley went white. "D-Dean _Whitherspoon_? "

"Indeed." The figure said, putting his hood back to reveal his light grey-haired head with mustache to match.

Stanley had already taken a boxing stance. _Why're all these Red whatsit guys standin' around like that? Are they waitin' for orders?_

"Get my brother off 'a' that fancy table of yours, or you're gonna be sorry, old man! "he said aloud.

"What on earth are you _doin'_!? " Fiddleford asked the dean. Stan noted that the little guy's face was still white.

"Ah, you see, Mister McGucket, even with brilliant minds like yours and your friend here—"the dean placed a hand on Stanford's head, and the bound young man let out a muffled cry—"—Backupsmore is still the educational laughing stock of New Jersey. Then, I thought—what if all of our students were perfect? What if we could be known for the most brilliant minds and perfect physical specimens? "

Fiddleford's eyes went wide. "Then—all of the disabled students—why, you're insane!"

Stanley looked from his small companion to the dean. "You're right, kid. This guy's a definite whackjob. "

Witherspoon chuckled. "Ah, so many brilliant minds have been called—as you put it, 'whackjobs'. I, for one, wish to go down in history for my brilliance! "

He raised the dagger above his head.

Stanford's eyes went wider than Stanley had ever seen them.

"Nooooooo!" came the voice of the little guy beside Stanley. Stanley was surprised he could be that loud.

Stanford let out a muffled scream…

"All right, everyone freeze!"

Stanley stood, frozen. What had just happened? It all went by so fast—and yet at the same time in slow motion.

The dean had raised the dagger above his head, and brought it down. Beside him, he heard his little companion scream: "Nooooooo!" and then he started running toward the table/platform thing…

"Son? Son, snap out of it."

Stanley blinked. "Huh?"

A police officer was waving a hand in front of his eyes. Stanley looked ahead of him. Another officer was handcuffing Dean Witherspoon, and still more were corralling the guys in the red jackets. Stanford still lay bound on the platform. He was screaming through the gag in his mouth, and tears were spilling out the corners of his eyes into his hair.

Across his brother's chest lay the prone figure of his brother's roommate, Witherspoon's dagger halfway into his back.

"Little guy-NO!"


	10. Chapter 10

Stanley pushed his way past the officer and ran to the platform. He started to reach for the dagger, but there was another muffled yell from his brother. Stanley turned and pulled the gag out of Stanford's mouth, then the bandanna that had been stuffed into it.

Stanford swallowed hard, then fairly shouted, "Don't pull the dagger out! He'll start bleeding!" He tried to lift his head. "Fiddleford! Why did you _do_ that?"

An officer came over to them. "Here son, we'll get you off of here." He said to Stanford.

"No—never mind me! " Stanford cried. "Please, is—"

The officer took hold of Fiddleford's wrist. "He has a pulse—Daniels! Call an ambulance—on the double! "

Another officer ran out of the room.

Stan helped the officer untie his brother.

"Son, I need you to stay here until the paramedics are able to move your friend." The officer explained to Stanford.

"I—sniff—I understand. " Stanford blubbered. "Please—just don't let him die, _please_!"

Stanley took a step back from the table. He wanted to say something to Stanford, but he hadn't seemed to notice Stanley was there—or at least hadn't acknowledged it. He was so worried about his little roommate, Stanley wondered if maybe he should just leave…

In the distance there were sirens. Within a little more than five minutes, two paramedics were coming down the stairs with a stretcher.

"Right here, men!" the officer that had helped untie Stanford called, guiding them over to the platform. The paramedics gently removed Fiddleford from off of Stanford's chest, and laid him on the stretcher on his stomach. Seconds later they were back up the stairs with him.

Stanford slowly sat up, tears now spilling down his face. "Please be okay, Fids." He squeaked, looking toward the stairs.

"We're—we're going to need you boys to come to the station to get your statements. "

Stan looked at his brother, who in turn looked at the officer.

"B-but—"Stanford blubbered.

"We need to get your statements so we can put that nut away. " the officer said firmly. "We'll get you to the hospital as soon as we're through, I promise. "

Stanford drew a ragged breath and let the officer help him get off of the table, and then lead him to the stairs. Stanley sighed and followed.

The twins both got into the back seat of the officer's car. Stanley glanced at his brother, who was looking out the window.

 _I can't apologize here, can I? Stanford's so worried about his little buddy he might just get angry that I was being selfish or something…_

Stanley just sighed and looked out the other window.

They stopped at the police station first. Stanley listened as Stanford explained what Fiddleford's suspicions had been about El Rojo Mano, and how he'd said the disabled students had disappeared from Backupsmore. He also told the officer the things that Dean Whitherspoon had said about clearing the college of "imperfect" students. Stanley told the officer how he'd run into Fiddleford—or, that Fiddleford had run into him—at Backupsmore, and how the smaller young man had explained his fears for Stanford. Finally he explained how he and Fiddleford had started to come for the police, but Fiddleford had recognized the Mano Rojo member's car, they had gone to investigate the building, and…

"Hey, how did you guys even know to come down there?" Stanley asked.

"Well," the officer explained. "A woman who lived across the street from that abandoned house kept complaining that teenagers were hanging out there. "She didn't know what they were doing, but she was afraid they were dealing drugs or would start a fire or something. "

Stanley's eyes widened as he vaguely remembered the woman talking to the police officer when he and Fiddleford had stopped in front of the house.

"Okay." The officer said, writing Stanley's last statement down. "As promised, I'll get you boys a ride to the hospital."

Looking at Stanford, he said, "I think you should get checked out yourself. "

"What?" Stanley's brother said, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. "

"Still, as a precaution. "

So, the twins received a ride to the hospital. Almost immediately after they arrived the officer took Stanford to the admissions desk, explained the situation, and Stanford was whisked off to an exam room.

Stanley watched them go, then walked dejectedly to a little room across from the admissions desk where there were chairs by the wall. He slumped down into one of them.


	11. Chapter 11

_What a day._ He thought. _Here I just want to apologize to my brother for messin' his college plans up, and I wind up watching someone else save his life…_

A tear came to his eye. _Dad's right, I'm worthless. Maybe I should just go jump off of a bridge or somethin'._

He put his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees. What _would_ he do now? If he just went and jumped off a bridge, at least he would permanently be out of everyone's way…

He got up and walked out of the room. Maybe he wouldn't jump off of a bridge, he didn't know, but he had to get out of there. He wasn't needed. He turned and headed for the hospital entrance.

"Stanley? "

Stanley glanced over his shoulder, then turned when he saw his brother there.

Stanford walked over to him. "Stanley, where were you going?"

Stan looked at the floor. "Well, I—I figured I was in the way—"

"In the _way_?"

"Yeah, I—"

Stanley sucked in a deep breath and looked at Stanford. "I—I just came back—to apologize. I didn't mean to break your – movement machine thing – I was mad, and I pounded the table, and your whatsit thing jumped, and I thought I fixed it, and…"

His voice trailed off. His big apology wasn't coming out right at all.

"Any way, I'm sorry I ruined your chance to go to West Coast Tech and all. It was all my fault and I didn't own up to it. "

"Oh, Stanley…"

The next thing Stanley knew, his brother had thrown his arms around him and—was he _crying_?

Stanley placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Uh—Stanford, what—are you okay? "

"I'm so sorry, Stan! I'm so sorry!" his brother choked out between sobs.

Stanley shook his head as if to clear it, then held his brother at arm's length. "Wha—what are _you_ sorry for? "

Stanford took his glasses off and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. "I'm—I'm sorry that I assumed—I assumed that you'd broken my machine on purpose, and then when Dad started in on you I went right along with him, and I didn't stop and think about it and—"

"Whoa." Stanley said, shaking his head. "Whoa. I'm the one supposed to be apologizin', here. "

Stanford smiled through his tears. "I think we both already did that, Stan. And if it makes you feel any better, apology accepted. "

Stan smiled. "Thanks, Stanford."

Stan's twin drew a deep breath and exhaled. "Besides, if I hadn't come to Backupsmore, I would never have met Fiddleford. "

Stan blinked and tilted his head, then came to a realization. "Oh, right-you mean the little guy. "

Stanford grinned weakly. "Yes. You mean the two of you came looking for me and you never learned each other's names? "

Stanley rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh—well, I've heard you say it, but things have been so crazy- when we met your friend was running like a bat out 'a'—well, you know—and he slammed into me. After I picked him up off of the floor he realized I was your brother, an' he said you were in danger and I—well, I flipped out an'—we never got to real introductions. "

His twin chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, my. Knowing Fiddleford, he was worried that I hadn't come back to the dorm when I usually do…"

Stan scratched his head. "Wait a sec-Stanford and Fiddleford? How'd you swing that? "

Stanford raised an eyebrow at him and gestured to himself, then to Stan. "Stanford and Stanley?"

"Well, I think that was Dad's fault—"

Suddenly a distressed look crossed Stanford's face, and he looked toward the hall by the admissions desk. "Fiddleford! Did they—tell you anything? "

Stanley shook his head. "No—no one's said anything to me since we got here."


	12. Chapter 12

Stanford looked apologetic again, keeping his gaze on the hall. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you earlier—"

"Nope—we're done apologizin'. Besides, you were worried about you're little—I mean, Fids. "Stan turned his gaze toward the hall as well. "He's one brave little guy."

Stan's brother chuckled. "Well, he's very loyal. In the week I've known him, he's become such a good friend." Stanford looked sad. "There's a big heart in that little body. "

"Has he got family nearby? " Stanley asked, wondering if they should call someone.

"Well, he told me he hasn't got any siblings. He's never mentioned his parents. "

Just then a doctor came up the hall and stopped at the admissions desk. "Nurse," the twins heard him say, "Is there anyone here in connection with the young man with the stab wound that was brought in? "

Both Stanford and Stanley perked up. "That's us!" they chimed in unison.

The doctor turned to them. "And you are—?"

Stanford stepped forward. "I'm his roommate, Stanford Pines. This is my brother Stanley. "

"We were both there when the kid got stabbed." Stanley added.

The doctor's eyebrows raised a bit at Stanley's statement, but he looked down at his chart. "I'm Doctor Graton, I first examined your friend when he came in. Does-Mr. McGucket have any family close by? "

"No, sir, not to my knowledge. "Stanford answered. Stan shook his head.

"I see. Are either of you eighteen?"

"We both are. Twins." Stan answered matter of factly, pointing to himself and Stanford a few times.

"Very well, if you'll come with me. "

"How—how did you get my friend's name?" Stanford asked. "Is he awake? "

"We go it off of his driver's license when we removed his wallet from his pocket. "Doctor Graton explained matter-of-factly.

Stan noted the look of deep concern that appeared on Stanford's face.

The two followed the doctor down the hall, then into an elevator. They were a bit surprised when the doctor brought them to an office-like room.

"When can we see our friend? " Stanford asked.

The doctor gestured to two chairs on the opposite side of him. "He's in surgery right now, but if you'll—"

" _Surgery_!?" both Stan and Ford fairly shouted.

The doctor gestured toward the chairs again. "Please sit down and I'll explain. "

The Pines twins did so, looking at each other.

"Now, the dagger needed to be removed and any bleeding stopped. "Dr. Graton told them. There was a bit of muscle damage, and the dagger went in far enough that it nicked one of your friend's lungs. "

Stanford drew a sharp breath and covered his mouth with his hand. Stanley asked, "Is he gonna be okay? "

The doctor blinked slowly and grinned. "The last I heard, the surgery was going well. "

Stanford exhaled and his shoulders slumped. Stanley put a hand on his brother's arm.

"Now, because Mr. McGucket is a minor, I'm going to need one of you sign the forms when he's released, as we can't seem to locate any of his family. "

"I'll gladly be responsible for anything you need. "Stanford said. Stanley didn't know if they would need anything from him, but he chimed in, "Me, too. "

"Very good. "

The doctor leaned over, and the twins heard the "ssszzzzt" of a drawer opening, then paper rustling. The doctor shut the drawer and slid a piece of paper, then a pen across the desk to Stanford. "This form gives you permission to take Mr. McGucket from the hospital when he's released, and says that you understand you take full responsibility for him while he's here. "

Stanford scanned the document, Stanley watching his brother's eyes. He nodded when he was through, and signed the line at the bottom.

Stanley reached over and slid the paper toward himself.

"Stanley, what—"

Stanley signed his own name in the space next to Stanford's. "That guy saved your life. The least I can do is help pay his bills 're whatever he needs. I don't have a job now, but I'll get one. I'm not going to let this be all on you. "

Stanley's twin smiled. _Dad would be proud of you, Stanley._


	13. Chapter 13

Doctor Graton slid the paper back over to himself and looked everything over to make sure that it was in order. "Very well, gentlemen." He said. "If you'll go back to the waiting room, I'll let you know when your friend is out of surgery. "

The Pines twins rose and went back down the hall and to the little waiting room where Stanley had been.

"Stanley, "Stanford said as he sat down. "It was good of you to do what you just did, but—"

"Me? Hey, I'll go scrape the barnacles off the dock by the salt water taffy shop if I have to-I'm _helping_. "

Stanford's eyes went wide. That was exactly what their high school principal had suggested to their parents when he brought them in to tell them that Stanford might be accepted to West Coast Tech. "Oh, Stanley, you heard—"

His brother looked at the floor. "Yeah-sorry, I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but—anyway, I'm just a clown, like the guy said. If scrapin' barnacles off of the dock is all I'm good for, well, as long as it makes money, right? Besides, you have to finish school. "

Stanford frowned deeply, and when Stanley looked up at him he was even scowling. "One, you are capable of more than that, and I'm sorry that I never told you otherwise. Two, I can get a part time job, too. "

"But—"

"No buts." Stanford said, looking at the floor himself. "Friends and family are more important than careers and money." He looked up and smiled at Stanley. "Besides, more running around will get me more exercise. You were always physically stronger than me. "

Stanley punched his brother playfully in the arm. "Well of course I am. I'm the protector twin. "

Stanford smiled and nodded. "That you are. "

Stanley saw a look in his brother's eyes that told him he was thinking, and then Stanford's eyes lit up. "I know! Remember the gym Dad took us to for those boxing lessons when we were kids? "

"Yeah—what about it?"

"I heard that they're in need of a new trainer. You could apply. "

Stanley's eyes went wide. "You mean in Glass Shard Beach? I can't go back there!"

"Yes you _can_. "

Stan sighed and looked at the floor.

"Look, you don't even have to go anywhere near the pawn shop," Stanford assured him, "-and even if you did run into Mom or Dad, you could tell them what you were doing. "

Stan continued to look a t the floor a moment, and then up at his brother. "Okay, I'll give it a try. "

"Good man." Stanford said, slapping a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Stanley looked up at the clock on the wall. "I wonder how much longer they're gonna be. "

Stanford looked at his hand. "I imagine that surgery takes a lot of care and precision. It's something I certainly could never do. "

"What?" Stanley said, looking a bit upset. "You're the smart twin! You could do _anything_ -or did some jerk tell you you couldn't 'cause of those six fingers of yours!?"

Stanford was part happy that his brother was standing up for him, and part embarrassed that he was being so loud. "Stanley, we're in a hospital!" he said in a loud whisper. Lowering his tone even more, he continued, "No, no one did—I just wouldn't want to be a surgeon because I don't think I could look inside someone's body. "

A nauseated look crossed Stanford's face, and Stanley found himself a bit grossed out by the prospect, too. "Eh—yeah. Okay. Not somethin' I'd want to do either, even if I had the smarts. "

Stanley reached over and took a hold of his brother's hand, staring at it a second.

Stanford wondered what was going through his brother's mind. Finally he said aloud, "What? "

His brother continued to stare at his hand, and said, "Remember how you used to carry that little notepad around with you and make sketches of everything you saw that you thought was a little weird? "

"Um—yeah." Stanford answered. The truth was, he still did that on occasion.

"Well, what if you did that for a career? I mean, like those ghost hunter guys. Of course knowing you, you'd be runnin' around after other weirdness besides just ghosts. "

Stanford was silent. Why _couldn't_ he? Certainly there were places in the world were odd anomalies needed to be unearthed…


	14. Chapter 14

"Excuse me, Mister Pines? "

Both twins stood. "Yes?" they answered in unison.

A nurse stood in the waiting room doorway. "I was told to come and get you—"she looked at her clipboard—"When Fiddleford McGucket was out of surgery? "

"Is he alright?"

"Did the surgery go well?"

The nurse smiled slightly at the young men's questions coming at the same time. "If you'll both follow me. "

Stanford and Stanley looked at each other and followed the nurse out of the room. After going down one hall, then another, they stopped in front of an open door.

The nurse poked her head in and spoke to the doctor standing in between the two beds. "Doctor Trembley, the Pines are here. "

The nurse smiled and nodded to them, then left. Stanford entered the room, and Stanley followed.

The dark haired doctor smiled and held out a hand. "Mister Pines—Mister Pines." He said as he shook each of their hands. "I'm Doctor Trembley, I performed the surgery on your friend. "

Both of the twins looked down at the bed. Fiddleford appeared to be asleep, his thick hair a mess on the pillow. Stanley noted the young man's spectacles were on the table next to the bed, and finally noticed how _thick_ the lenses were.

 _Man, this kid must be blind!_

"How did the surgery go, sir? " Stanford asked.

"Fairly well." Doctor Trembley told him. "There was some damage to the rhomboid major—a muscle that runs by his shoulder blade, as well as damage to the dorsal scapular artery…"

While he spoke the doctor held up a diagram showing where these things were. Stanley was particularly glad because he had no clue what the guy was talking about.

"…both we were able to repair, but we'll have to secure your friend's arm to his chest for a while to be sure he doesn't move it and disturb the sutures. "

"Will there be any permanent damage? "Stanford asked.

Doctor Trembley shook his head. "If there is it will be minor—and your friend is young, he should heal nicely. "

Stanford covered his face with his hands, but Stanley still heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Mister McGucket is still recovering from the anesthesia." Doctor Trembley said, "-but you both are more than welcome to stay. I have some other patience to attend to. "

Stanley nodded to the doctor, and Stanford removed his hands from his face. "Thank you, sir. "

When the doctor had gone, Stanley went and pulled a chair over to the side of the bed by his brother. "Sit down. Y' look like you're goin' to faint. "

Stanford did so, closing his eyes. Stanley sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed and gazed at his brother a moment. "You okay?" he finally asked.

Stanley's twin nodded, his eyes still closed. "I'm just tired. "

"Been a rough day."

"I'll say. "

There was a bit more silence, and then Stanford opened his eyes. "You know, that's not a bad idea you had. "

Stanley looked confused. "Idea? Wait—I had an idea that _wasn't_ bad? "

Stanford rolled his eyes. "Yes, knucklehead, you did. Out there in the waiting room—you suggesting I look into the supernatural—the—well, weird. "

Stanley grinned slightly. "Well, you wouldn't _have_ to do that—I mean, I was just spewing—"

"It was a good idea." Stanford said. "I'm honestly going to look into it. I heard there's a grant being offered next semester, and I'm going to go for it. It would be great to get me started. "

Stan just smiled. "Whatever floats your boat, Sixer. "


	15. Chapter 15-Finale

" _Nnnnnnhhhhh…."_

Both of the twins turned their attention to Fiddleford. The young man's eyes had shut tight, and he let out another groan. His eyelids fluttered, then his eyes slowly opened.

"Fiddleford?" Stanford said softly. "How are you feeling? "

The young man closed his eyes again, then opened them. "S-Stanford? Where—where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, little buddy." Stanley told him, scooting his chair closer to the head of the bed.

"Unnnhh—the—the hospital? The last thing I remember—that odd fella in the red robe was going to…"

His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes again. Stanley and Stanford looked at each other; thinking maybe he'd fallen back to sleep, but Fiddleford blinked and opened his eyes again.

"He would have stabbed me in the heart." Stanford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's arm. "You jumped in the way and he stabbed you instead. "

"You're one brave little guy. "Stanley added, beaming.

Fiddleford closed his eyes and his cheeks turned red. "Aw—'t'weren't nothin'. " He looked up at Stanford. "You're my friend. I couldn't let that guy skewer you. "

"Well, I owe you big, Fidds. "

"Me, too," Stanley chimed in. "You saved my brother's life. "

Fiddleford's face remained red. "No—you don't owe me anything. "

Stan looked over at Stanford, and the two had the same thought.

"Eh—since you're a minor, the hospital needed someone to sign some papers to take responsibility for you. "Stan said.

"Yes, so—Stanley and I did. "Stanford added.

Fiddleford's eyes went wide. "You—oh, my—you didn't have to do that. "

Stanford smiled. "Well, like I said, I owe you big." :)

Fiddleford's face went a darker red, and Stanley wondered how hard the kid could blush. "Well—"he yawned, then shook his head slightly, making the mop of hair on his head even more of a mess—"—I—I wish—I feel like I'm indebted to you, still. "

Stanford looked across the bed at his brother. Stanley had an idea of what was on his brother's mind, and shot him back a knowing smirk.

"Well, Fidds, "Stanford said aloud, "Stanley had an idea about what I could do after I'm done with school. I know it's a ways off yet, and I know you have your heart set on those computers, but hear me out, won't you…?"

 _._


End file.
